


Passing Notes

by Calliopinot



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Choking, Gags, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Plague, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Smut, a little bit of angst to keep things interesting, plague years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 09:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21443890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliopinot/pseuds/Calliopinot
Summary: A pre-electronics era version of "dtf?" sends a curious Doctor Devorak to Count Lucio's wing. Sexytimes predictably ensue.
Relationships: Julian Devorak/Lucio (The Arcana)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 95





	Passing Notes

Doctor Julian Devorak was well into his 25th wakeful hour. That he could count, at any rate. There was one long swath of time spent at the elbow of his supervisor, mindlessly hacking screaming body after screaming body without the benefit of a clock or the passage of the sun to measure it. And another in the decidedly more pleasant company of his ostensible teammate and their beloved countess, drowning the agony with alcohol and conversation. How long ago either of those was, Julian could not be sure, but he certainly knew sleep had not visited him in the interim.

The mortuary was quiet, whatever hour was currently upon him. Quaestor Valdemar never slept, but Julian had a creeping feeling they didn't exactly need it. Research was going well, which is to say, it was going. This lead was no more promising than any of the others; a long-forgotten treatise on infections of the blood Julian's present meal. Without answers to how and why the plague came to Vesuvia, how and why it spread so rapidly, how and why it chose its victims and left others - himself included - totally spared despite constant contact with infected people, he supposed he would never be closer to finding a cure.

Julian let out a long suffering sigh, raking his fingernails across his scalp just to the point of pain. It was less destructive than toppling a shelf of books, anyway. Perhaps coffee would help align his thoughts.

The doctor was just reaching for the door when a terse KNOCK! echoed from the other side. It was all he could do not to yelp in surprise; the opaque wood mercifully hid his dramatic recoil from his visitor.

"Yes?"

The door swung open, bathing his dim hovel in the murky red light he hated. A palace servant dressed in gleaming white stood before him, nose wrinkled at the stench of death. This was one of Count Lucio's personal errand boys.

Julian could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

"Has the count taken ill? Is he in need of my services?" Julian checked his pockets for the watch he hadn't worn in years, reaching for his coat. But the servant shook his head, proffering a small white envelope with gilded edges. The doctor tilted his head at him, puzzled - a look met with a pleading one of the servant's own.  Please take this thing so I can get the hell out of here.

Julian complied with the unspoken request, and the boy escaped without a word of excuse. "One can certainly tell Lucio's hand-picked servants," Julian muttered to himself, turning back to his desk with the note, intrigue replacing the taste for coffee that moved him from it a moment ago.

The note was odd from the outset. On the front, scribbled in round capital letters: **JULES**. Why would Lucio go to the trouble of addressing this note himself, when it was the job of any number of attendants to simply take the note to its destination?

Inside was equally perplexing. A heavy piece of cardstock bore more of Lucio's bold handwriting. In bright red ink, all caps, a single question: _"What are you wearing, Doctor Devorak?"_

Julian flipped the card over; surely there had to be more to this note. Or else it was a mistake, or a joke, or a prank, or an effect of the sleep deprivation. Literally anything else to explain what on earth he was reading. This was definitely not a case of mistaken identity, Julian realised, as the utility of including both his last name and that obnoxious nickname on the letter became clear.

He was at a loss for what else to do. So Julian cleared a space on his desk, unspooled a small length of parchment, and wrote a brief yet thorough reply. He considered dropping it off with a member of the palace staff - on his way to fetch something  much stronger than coffee - when he noticed the errand boy from earlier hanging out just beyond the mortuary proper, hand over his nose and mouth looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Julian chuckled to himself as he handed over his response; he didn't even need to give instructions before the kid doubled back at double speed.

Now that he was up and out of his room, he may as well go get that cup of coffee or liquor or both. 

Julian had no reason to think the count's game of passing notes would continue after he provided a perfectly perfunctory account of his evening attire. But then, he had no reason to think the count would start a note passing game to begin with. Which is why he was a little more than surprised to see the same servant, pink in the face and out of breath, approaching him in the basement kitchen.

"Why aren't you in your cell-" the servant started before remembering his place, red washing over him from his ears down to his neck and to the tips of the fingers that held out yet another letter from Lucio.

Julian merely raised an eyebrow, too curious to apologize or forgive. Again, the envelope was marked with his nickname. He opened it, sliding out two cards. "_OHH? You don't wear undergarments? That sounds awfully unprofessional, doctor. I thought the only gremlins allowed to stink up my palace were the ones you hauled in to hack to bits in your unending search for the cure to this godforsaken plague._"

Evidently Julian's description was not thorough enough. The same shade of crimson that had just faded from the servant's cheeks now colored his own. He almost dreaded reading the second card.

_ "I bet you wear stockings though. Describe them to me.  In detail , Doctor Devorak." _

Julian nearly choked on the sip of spiked coffee he'd foolishly decided to take. The servant, graciously, patted him on the back, then provided a pencil and paper without comment. Julian simply gripped them for a moment, at a loss for what to do. Why in the name of all the gods of the sea would Lucio want to know about his stockings?

He tried to will the flush from his cheeks as he set to writing. There was no way of knowing whether the servant knew what was going on, but the way he politely turned his back was hint enough that it was something horribly improper. Nothing would stop him from unfolding and reading it on the way back to Lucio's wing, but Julian bent the paper into an intricate pentagon nonetheless. Maybe if the count saw it had been tampered with... Julian didn't want to think about what kind of trouble he might be getting this boy into. 

"I, ah. I'll be back in my room. Next time." He smiled apologetically as he handed over his second response, both men fully expecting a "next time."

Doctor Julian Devorak was well into his 28th wakeful hour when the servant returned. His face this time had taken on a distinct green color. Before he even acknowledged him, Julian rummaged in his bag for a small vial, exchanging it for the note in the boy's hand.

"For nausea."

The servant nodded, gratefully, and booked it out of there. Julian waited, listening for footsteps on the damp stone steps, surprised when he heard them. Whatever Lucio had to say now didn't require a response. Maybe the silly game had ended, and Julian could get one with his night.

"LEMME SEE. BRING THE MASK."

Or, maybe not. 

It had to have been the sleep deprivation, that prevented the normally cagey Julian Devorak from thinking twice about traversing the half mile between his dreary quarters and Count Lucio's wing. It had to have been countless wakeful hours interfering with good and common sense that led him to Lucio's door, innocently willing to slake the count's curiosity. It  may have been a little curiosity of his own, too.

He knocked twice and let himself in; numerous trips in his official capacity had dispensed with formalities beyond that one. Entering a room bathed in a dim red haze was disorienting. Julian actually checked the door - white, gilded trim, solid gold knobs, definitely not the morg. Instead dozens of red candles burned on every surface. Expensive surfaces that dripping wax would surely ruin... Julian sighed at the count's trademark excess.

"Count Lucio? You called?"

"Over here idiot."

Of course Julian should have walked straight to the bed. It was routine. But he knew, from the first handwritten note, that nothing about this visit would be routine. Lucio sat up in his massive bed, chest bare, magical arm glowing red along with his eyes, characteristic smirk playing across his lips. The golden gauntlet was unfastened but lay on the pillows next to him, in easy reach. He regarded Julian with something like devious thirst.

"Well?"

Julian blinked. "Well..."

Lucio ran his right hand through limp locks, already exasperated.

"Well! Lemme see!"

"Oh! Right!"

Lucio rolled his eyes, muttering terrible things under his breath that Julian willfully ignored. Just as his hands began to unwrap the sash around his waist, they stopped. He bent an eyebrow at his transfixed lord.

"Why?"

"Why what." Lucio's eyes were fixed on Julian's hands, waiting for them to move, like a puppy being teased with its favorite toy.

"Why on earth do you want to see my stockings? Why did you want to know what I was wearing?"

At last Lucio tore his gaze away from the man's waist. The present wasn't going to be unwrapped anytime soon, anyway. And he frowned.

"Okay, first of all, how dare you question me."

Julian was shocked to find none of Lucio's usual malice in the statement. In fact, even the frown was one of... Dare he say, hurt? Confusion? Definitely not anger.

"Two, am I not allowed to have a little fun? Just a little damned fun around here? Since I'm stuck in this godforsaken bed, as per my humble doctor's orders?"

The familiar vehemence was rising, and now, Julian was shocked to find himself relieved.

"And I lost count, but I just wanna seeeeeee Jules lemme see dammit!"

Now he was reaching out to Julian's body himself, and Julian was completely and utterly gobsmacked. The sudden, impatient motion caused the carefully placed sheets to slip, and Julian discovered Lucio's chest was not the only thing bare.

"It. Um. Would seem. My lord. That it is not I who am averse to undergarments."

Julian blushed at his own words. He absolutely should not have mentioned it. But Lucio waved him off with a snort, crawling over to the side of the bed on his knees, nothing but a pair of black lace socks and thigh garters holding them up. An ensemble strikingly similar to...

Julian blushed, not at his own words.

"We'll see about that in a minute."

And Lucio's fingers were busy, unlooping the sash, pulling at the laces that closed up Julian's pants. It was all Julian could do to keep still, hands out of the way, awestruck by the energy and strength that still flowed through the plague-stricken count. Energy and strength that was currently focused on him. Drawing his pants down his legs. Revealing, contrary to Lucio's assumption, an unexpectedly snug pair of black lace briefs, followed by a matching garter and fine silk stockings.

"Well. I see you described them in perfect detail."

"You know, Lucio," Julian eyed the identical but for material pair clinging to the man before him. "If you wanted the name of my importer, all you had to do was ask."

"Pfff. Where's the fun in that?"

Lucio ran an impetuous hand over the front of Julian's underwear, pleased to find a bit of stiffness there.

"Take your boots off. Take everything off. But leave the stockings."

Heeding with immediacy the order of the vicious and cruel Count of Vesuvia was a habit drilled into all the doctors from the moment they set foot beyond the palace gates. But in  this moment, Julian could do nothing but stare down at the vicious and cruel Count of Vesuvia, who licked his lips and fondled himself, one hand still petting Julian's crotch.

"Ahhh," Julian breathed, and for a second, Lucio smirked, glad his actions were producing the desired effect. "Ah. Aha. Yes. OK. I see. I'm dreaming. I passed out at my desk from overwork, and this is the mocking vision that assaults me in my twilight state-"

A hard smack roused Julian from his ramblings. Metal and magic didn't give the way flesh and muscle might.

"...ow?"

"This ain't a dream, dummy."

"I believe a pinch is the more traditional manner of checking for wakefulness, Count- YEEP!"

Lucio squeezed a larger chunk of Julian's ass than necessary, if only to make his already proven point. He sighed, about to repeat his request, when he noticed a curious little blush high on the doctor's brow. A mischievous grin spread across the count's lips as he repeated the pinch, this time carefully watching Julian's face for the reaction.

He didn't need to look so intently. Julian drew in his bottom lip immediately, stifling a groan. Brows knit together as his eyes fluttered shut. And to top it off, a gloved hand shot up to grip Lucio's shoulder, as his hips bucked subtly forward.

"HA HA HA HA!" Lucio didn't have to contain his glee, so he didn't. Instead, he reclined on the bed, snapping the gauntlet onto his prosthetic arm, and curled a pointed finger at Julian.

"Take your clothes off Doctor Devorak. Leave the stockings. And come here."

This time, Julian did not dawdle. He held Lucio's eye the whole while through his rushed strip tease, heat rising in his own core and compelling him forward onto the bed. Lucio patted his lap, and Julian scrambled to straddle him, struggling to keep a sigh of pleasure in his throat at the brief brush of their straining erections. That sigh switched directions into a gasp as the pointed claws of Lucio's left hand dragged across his chest, flicking both nipples, almost light enough to tickle. Lucio repeated the motion, harder, enough to make Julian finally groan aloud, not enough to break the skin.

Satisfied for the moment, Lucio hooked his hands behind Julian's long torso, pulling himself upright. He rubbed his smooth cheek against Julian's jaw, enjoying the stubble of how many days' missed shaves, and pressed his lips to Julian's ear.

"You'll tell me if it's too much."

A brush of whiskers indicated a nod. But Lucio pulled back, pulling Julian's face down to his in turn.

"I need to hear you say it. Say, 'Yes my lord Count Lucio, I'll tell you between my screams if your hand is too heavy and I'm too weak to take it anymore.'"

Julian fought through the lusty haze to roll his eyes.

"I doubt anything you're capable of doling out will come close to, erm, previous exploits I've had."

Julian inwardly cursed his quick tongue, as he watched Lucio's face contort into a mix of affront, jealousy, and pure malevolence. The last one was the most concerning. He only had a second to flounder before the gauntlet was around his throat, pushing him away and flat onto his back, Lucio hovering menacingly over him.

"You sure about that, doc?"

The doctor wondered for a moment whether, in fact, the regimen of tinctures and ointments to which he mercilessly subjected Lucio was actually working. He certainly didn't seem sick, right now, anyway.

"Ahhaa, I stand corrected. Forgive me-" Julian hacked and gasped against a brief squeeze of his throat- "Ahem. That is. Yes. I will let you know if I need to stop."

"Good."

Five razor sharp points immediately dug into the sides of Julian's neck, dangerously close to all manner of critical veins and arteries. The proximity, and the knowledge that the renowned soldier above him was intimately familiar with deadly anatomy, sent a thrill racing directly to Julian's groin. Lucio grinned as his toy bucked into him, withdrawing his claws to let the bloody tips drip onto his own tongue. At Julian's keening whimper, Lucio decided to share, bracing a sharp elbow on his sternum to free his flesh hand. The gentle caress of Lucio's palm, thumb sweeping across Julian's lips, gently coaxing them open, stood in stark contrast to the four gauntleted fingers he shoved into his mouth.

Distantly, Lucio could feel Julian's tongue moving against them, lapping up the blood, adding to it. He'd started to withdraw his hand, when Julian suddenly closed his lips around it, sucking gently yet firmly, ignoring or enjoying the blades that surely pierced his tongue.

"Wow."

Lucio had no reason to be stingy with his appreciation, especially when it yielded evidence of yet another of Julian's little interests.

Another buck of the doctor's hips was all it took to encourage Lucio on from teasing. He removed his fingers, replacing them immediately with lips and tongue, relishing in the coppery tang that mixed with the distinctive bite of burnt coffee and dark liquor. Lucio couldn't help but think this was just Julian's flavour, that no matter if he was fresh from a bath, teeth washed and body clean, his mouth and his skin would still taste like this, like pain and brutality and broken things.

It was intoxicating, and Lucio knew in that moment that he would never get enough.

He broke the kiss with a bite to Julian's plump lower lip. The doctor trailed after him, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Someone's a bit hungry, I see. Don't worry Doc. I'll take care of you."

Lucio sat back on Julian's thighs -- taking a moment to draw a finger down his turgid flesh, purely for the squirm it produced -- and slipped his stocking feet in front of him. Julian's hands had drifted above his head, perhaps in anticipation of what was to come, but the way they nervously wrung together inspired in Lucio a moment of cruel pity.

"You can touch, Doc. You're allowed - for now."

A tentative hand slid up Lucio's calf, delicate fingers tracing the intricate lace pattern up to the fold of his knee.

"It's really quite exquisite material, dontcha think? They're Noddy's, actually-"

Julian choked on a gasp, which Luico ignored.

"She brought 'em home from Pra-kara, cos she knew I'd like them. On her, on me," Lucio shrugged. "You'd be surprised how much fun we can have in each other's closets."

The gleam in Lucio's eye told him more than any question was worth.

Both feet rested comfortably on Julian's chest, now, and with his hands braced on the doctor's knees, Julian bore all his weight. Lucio slid one foot up and over Julian's bristly chin, reveling in the prickly snags, and dipped a toe onto his waiting mouth. It was certainly odd, inhibited by the fabric, but scintillating nonetheless.

"See, I knew I'd have you kissing my feet sooner or later."

Julian's retort was mercifully muffled.

Lucio unfastened the leg garter and nodded to Julian, his meaning clear. Reaching up to Lucio's thigh, slowly rolling the lace down into his own mouth, Julian's eyes fluttered at the realization he was preparing his own gag.

While Julian finished with the left leg, Lucio removed the remaining stocking, leaning up and over Julian once more.

"Give me your hands."

Julian obeyed as soon as the first stocking was suitably stuffed into his mouth. Lucio looped the one he'd just removed around Julian's wrists, resting them gently above his head. As an afterthought, Lucio grabbed one of a dozen pillows and slid it behind Julian's head.

"Okay?"

Julian nodded.

"Good boy."

Julian whimpered.

Lucio covered another amused smirk with kisses against Julian's throat, dragging his teeth against his sharp jaw, tonguing and sucking at the wounds his claws left moments ago. The count worked his way down in this fashion, licking, mouthing, pausing to sink his teeth into one particularly delicious patch of flesh or another. Lucio's flesh hand ran appreciatively through the auburn fuzz on Julian's chest.He would admit it to no one, since he rather liked showing off his rippling pectorals, but Lucio always secretly envied men who could grow chest hair. He'd always expected to become a burly bear, like so many of his elders growing up. When it never happened, Lucio couldn't help feeling like a part of manhood had escaped him. He brushed the thoughts aside as his mouth reached a nipple. A few teasing nips were all the warning Julian got before Lucio sucked it, hard, between his teeth.

Julian could do no more than writhe and moan at the treatment, captive in every way by the man who tormented him. Muted groans were immensely preferred, in Lucio's eyes, to the doctor's sassy tongue, and biting and pulling at one nipple, then the other, back and forth, produced no shortage of them. It was only when the groans started to become accompanied by gurgles and coughs that Lucio relented - only to unspool the drenched fabric from Julian's mouth.

"Thank you, my lord," Julian gasped.

"Oh, don't thank me yet, Jules."

Julian's eyes widened as Lucio scooted back on his knees, ass high in the air, face mere inches from his achingly hard cock.

"You would...?"

He would. Obviously. And he would have said as much aloud, were his mouth not otherwise occupied. Julian let out a scream, at last, and reflexively bucked his hips, shoving himself deep into Lucio's mouth. Wrong move.

Lucio pulled off, leveling him with the first truly terrifying gaze he'd seen since this entire absurd evening began.

"Do that again, and I'll rip it off." Golden claws glinting in the flickering candlelight assured Julian that he was dead serious.

"Yes, sir, my apologies, I just, I didn't expect you to-"

"What, suck dick?"

Julian was only slightly alarmed by how quickly Lucio could return to his irreverent demeanor. The count smiled a predatory smile as he stroked Julian's cock, tortuously slowly.

"I do things I like,  Julian.  I don't know why that's so hard for you to understand. I like sex, and I like winning, and I like you." Julian's brows disappeared into his mop of hair at that. "Now, come in my mouth before I change my mind."

Lucio dove down on him again, extending his tongue beyond his lips, following its winding trail down to the fuzzy base. Lucio closed his eyes, taking a moment to himself to breathe in Julian's musk. He caressed the base with his lips slowly, sensually, like he didn't have an entire length of hearty plague doctor down his throat. Changing tactics without warning, Lucio hollowed his cheeks and pulled back, sucking fiercely, bobbing his head and swirling his tongue around every inch of flesh it could reach before settling down once again. Only when a low moan escaped him did Julian realise the head of his cock was well beyond the limits of Lucio's mouth. It was a thrill beyond belief, not just sheer feeling, but the thought of being deepthroated by the cruel and vicious Count of Vesuvia.

It was evident that Lucio liked it, and not only that, but he was good at it. Really good. Insanely, unfairly, where the hell did he learn that trick good. Julian was reduced to a sweaty, panting mess in mere minutes, the inconsistent rhythm only heightening his arousal. The mental and physical strain of keeping his hips in check contributed to Julian's stamina, but only just. Lucio sucked down the drops of precum, bobbing faster, refusing to use his hand, eyes fixed on Julian's face for the prize...

Lucio thought, for the briefest of moments, he was definitely right about Julian's flavour.

Julian came with a scream and a cry and a whimper, Lucio's mouth locked on him until every delicious drop was his, and longer, until Julian begged him for mercy on behalf of his oversensitive cock. Lucio wasted no time crawling back up the gangly doctor's body, fumbling with the restraints as he attacked Julian's lips. Julian kissed back with ferocity, tongue boldly exploring Lucio's mouth, chasing his own taste. As soon as his arms were free they encircled the count, one hand tangled in his hair, the other greedily grabbing at his ass, grinding into him as if he had anything left.

And Lucio let him. There would be time for rules and correction and punishment... his favorite part... later. For now, this was new, and they were each operating as much on feeling as on curiosity. 

At last Julian broke his embrace, gently pressing Lucio onto his back so he could return the favor. But a cold hand under his chin stopped his effort.

"No. I want something different from you, darling." Lucio pulled Julian back up to him, directed one arm around his neck where it was and the other down between his legs.

Julian took the hint, squeezing Lucio's chest into his with a possession he knew, on an unconscious level, they both needed. Slow, rhythmic kisses replaced the sloppy desperate ones. He slipped his hand between Lucio's thighs, lifting a leg up to wrap around his hips. A friendly tug to his balls made Lucio gasp, and blush, before Julian set to work.

At first, the rythtm matched his lips. Methodical, comforting, designed to build trust in his touch. The tempo increased before long, both men panting against each other, tight to each other. Lucio's eyes screwed shut, brows knit as if he were fending off a nightmare. His breath was ragged against Julian's lips, uneven, like the sporadic clutches of his fingers and spasms of his leg. Julian simply held him close, kissed Lucio's cheeks and the sweaty crown of his head. Made him feel loved.

Like this, Lucio could give little warning when his orgasm was near. His breath suspended for what seemed like minutes, Julian pumping relentlessly all the while, before a long, broken exhale and warm splash on his stomach signaled Lucio's climax. But Lucio was still on edge after he came, and came down, still coiled close to Julian, face still knotted up in something like pain. It was all Julian could to do try to kiss some relief into the worried lines on Lucio's skin.

Eventually they relaxed into an expression next to contentment, and Julian took the opportunity to pull Lucio's tired head into the crook of his neck. It was only then - spent, exhausted, free from further obligations to entertain the count - that he could really take stock of his situation. Half the candles had burned out, indicating a stay much longer than he expected. Looking down at the man in his arms, Julian was struck by his fragility, not just in the vulnerable moments after sex, but in the wake of whatever burst of energy had blessed him tonight. Lucio looked like a plague victim again, pale, feverish, and clutching desperately to his lifeline.

"Lucio." Julian felt a tiny pinprick of guilt at interrupting the count's much needed rest. But he had a question, and a suspicion. "I simply have to know why you sent me that note earlier."

Lucio sighed, did not open his eyes.

"I simply have to have my plague cure."

It wasn't a challenge, there was no venom in it. Rather a simple statement of fact. Without the cure, Count Lucio of Vesuvia would die, along with untold others. Perhaps this evening was what both men needed, a diversion from that grim reality, from Lucio's suffering and Julian's tireless - and thus far fruitless - labor. Julian was driven before by a Hippocratic obligation to end the suffering of his fellow citizens. Now, he held the encouragement to continue in his own arms, the promise of more nights like this, healing each other's deeper wounds. 

Doctor Julian Devorak had lost track of how many sleepless hours he'd accumulated. But they would end, for now, in the warm bed of a tyrant and a patient, a man with feelings and faults like his own, a man who, at the very least, deserved an explanation for the illness that plagued him.

But some questions, it would turn out, were better left unanswered. 

**Author's Note:**

> So hey! This is my first Arcana fic! It's shamelessly Jucio! Started as a dumb "Lucio flirts with Julian via handwritten note" idea and turned into.. All this. Anyway I hope you enjoyed. I may or may not continue this one.


End file.
